


Splish Splash I Was Summoning a Demon

by QueridaMyDear



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale pines so hard he summons Crowley, First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, bathtime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueridaMyDear/pseuds/QueridaMyDear
Summary: Thispost on Tumblrwas too cute to not write this. Aziraphale takes a bath after a long day and thinks about Crowley, and accidentally summons him. Right into the bath with him.





	1. Splish Splash I Was Summoning a Demon

It had been a long day full of attempting to discourage a tour bus full of extraordinarily pushy and insistent American tourists from buying his books and right now all Azriaphale wanted was a bath.

He didn’t often set up the full bath experience including candles, bath bomb and bubble bath, but after his day he required the most relaxing experience he could fathom or else he was going to disintegrate from fury and stress. 

Imagine, the nerve! Coming into his bookshop, during one of the rare days he was open, and trying to buy his books! Americans! The odd hours and weird smells didn’t seem to be working to discourage visitors, he really did need to work on making the shop more uninviting. Perhaps a perpetually flicking light? A sound that suggested the upstairs tenant was constantly making furious and passionate love to one or more partners? He would have to brainstorm more on this, and perhaps consult Crowley. Crowley was such a master of annoying humans, he was sure to come up with something.

Aziraphale left the water to run while he undressed, pulling his dressing robe on, his thoughts now caught up, thinking of his demon. Well, his ‘friend’. But Aziraphale loved the possessive little thrill of thinking of Crowley as ‘his’. His demon. His… Maybe hopefully someday they could get beyond that and Aziraphale could use other words he liked to use while thinking about Crowley. ‘Beloved’ was a favorite. His demon. His beloved.

“Oh!” Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat up quite dramatically and he tried to shoo those thoughts away as he left his clothes draped over the back of a chair. He checked on the tub, still working on filling up, and yes he could just miracle it full but he loved the anticipation of filling it, thinking of the hot water and the bubbles and how nice it would be to submerge himself, and the eager rush to gather everything before it was full.

He got a bottle (the entire bottle, he needed it) of miraculously perfectly chilled rosé and a glass and carried them to the bathroom, then set about meticulously manually lighting the absurd amount of candles scattered around the bathroom on every available surface. Aziraphale swirled his hand around in the warm water, the bubbles foaming up and scenting the bathroom with lavender and rose. 

Finally the bath was ready. He turned the water off and tossed in a bath bomb, pushing the bubbles away to watch it fizz and open up, tinting the water a lovely shade of purple. 

Aziraphale disrobed and poured himself some rosé, then carefully settled into the tub, sighing dreamily as he was submerged in the hot, floral, bubbly water, some spilling over the sides and onto the floor.

His thoughts drifted, returning to his demon. He’d have to call him to the store tomorrow, ask him to set up something to scare customers away. He could only hope the busload of American tourists wouldn’t be back. He had never been so stressed…!

 _No, no. You are relaxing right now. **Relax.**_ He thought to himself, quickly banishing the tourists from his thoughts. That of course just left Crowley, sauntering through his thoughts, imagining him fixing up the shop to protect Aziraphale’s books from an attempted purchase. They’d tried having Crowley lounge around in his snake form, and it worked to a point. There was always someone who came in who adored snakes and showered Crowley with attention until Aziraphale was forced, red-faced and shaking a little, to sternly ask them to leave immediately. He refused to go that route again, he couldn’t stand watching strangers come in to pet and stroke Crowley’s sleek black body!

 _ **Relax.**_ He reminded himself, frustrated by how difficult it was to get himself to listen to himself. Was anything missing from his bath setup? Could it be more relaxing? He had wine, a hot bath, more bubble bath than was strictly necessary, a bath bomb, and candles. He had the whole set up, the only thing missing was…

 _Crowley._ As much as it frustrated him to think about Crowley’s smug little reptilian face while strangers cooed over him and patted him, nothing put a smile on his face faster or made him happier than his demon.

Aziraphale sipped his rosé, lifting his hands from the water and watching the bubbles cling to his skin. Though he hoped someday he could call Crowley more than a friend, he wasn’t sure where they stood with each other. Sometimes he thought Crowley was about to proposition him but something about the way he phrased it seemed to lessen it, make it more casual, more ‘between friends’ than Aziraphale wanted to be. And sometimes he almost had the nerve to ask Crowley how he felt about him, only to chicken out at the end, every single time. It was a terribly frightening, nerve-wracking thing to ask. Crowley had been his one constant companion since the beginning, and he hoped that if Crowley didn’t return his affections, maybe they could at least remain friends. But he was so scared that he might frighten Crowley away. There were no other demons like him, and all the angels Aziraphale knew were, well, dicks. 

It hurt a little but at least their friendship was safe if Aziraphale simply laid back in the bath and thought of his demon. He imagined the precious snake tattoo on his face, curling in and in on itself. Aziraphale had touched it a few times when they had been drinking at dinner, his fingertips touching on the fuzzy ends of Crowley’s hair as he traced the little snake. Maybe it had been his imagination or his own raised temperature but he could’ve sworn, those few times, Crowley’s cheeks flushed in response to Aziraphale’s touch. He could dream, right?

He thought of his demon’s saunter, how much he enjoyed being the first to arrive for a lunch date and spotting Crowley walking down the street, his long legs rolling in front of each other until they carried him to the seat beside Aziraphale.  
Aziraphale sighed happily, thinking of quiet moments in his flat or Crowley’s when he’d been able to catch Crowley off guard, deep in thought or with a surprisingly tender look on his face. If Aziraphale had ever told him about those moments, Crowley would deny even being able to wear a tender expression. And Aziraphale would smile and nod and agree, laughing softly at his silly demon. In those moments he longed to be able to reach out and stroke his face, pull him close, press their lips together… Oh, how he wanted to feel Crowley’s hands on his face or his hips, trying to pull him closer…

“-UUUUCCCKKKK!” A sudden scream, a sudden pocket of black in his vision, and a sudden huge splash in the tub startled Aziraphale. He backed away in a panic, wondering what had happened, who in the world had appeared in his tub, until the thrashing and cursing subsided and Crowley peeked out from under the bubbles, hair wet and stuck to his forehead. They both blinked at one another, puzzled.

“Angel? What the _hell_ am I doing here?” Crowley sat up, wiping his hair out of his eyes. He looked around, took in the bubbles, the candles, some extinguished from water splashing everywhere, and he still didn’t know exactly what was going on. He snapped his fingers and the candles re-lit themselves, and Aziraphale’s wine glass, shattered when it hit the floor when he dropped it in his surprise at suddenly having a wet demon in his naked lap, fixed itself and refilled itself with more chilled rosé. Crowley took a sip and offered the glass to Aziraphale, who was only now calming down, realizing it was just Crowley. But how…?

“Why did you summon me?” Crowley asked, leaning uncomfortably against the faucet end of the tub but determined to look cool. He pretended it wasn’t digging into his back but it was and it hurt. But he was already fully clothed in a hot bath, so his discomfort level was already fairly high. The faucet wasn’t nearly as bad as his wet socks.

“I… What? I did what?” Aziraphale was more confused than anything. He’d summoned Crowley? “But how? I thought one needed a circle, like I use to talk to Heaven, and snake blood-”

“...Really? You don’t… How do you not…” Crowley sighed and stopped himself, and launched into his explanation, “As two divine...ish, beings, we don’t need circles or snake blood or anything like that to summon each other. You just need to be really thinking hard about me and pull me here with… With your soul.”

Crowley went quiet, looking around again as he had when he first dropped in. Aziraphale had been here, alone, in the tub, drinking rosé and… Thinking about Crowley and longing for him so intensely that he’d ripped the demon straight out of his flat and into his tub.

Aziraphale connected the dots at the same pace as Crowley and looked around for an excuse but found none. He tried to climb out of the bath to escape but as soon as he had his hands on the side of the tub to haul himself out, Crowley had both of his wrists and pinned him to the back of the tub, leaning over him with a knowing grin on his face.

“Tell me, Aziraphale,” The slow way he rolled Aziraphale’s name off his tongue made him shiver despite the hot water around them, “Why were you thinking about me in the tub? Why did you accidentally end up summoning me with the strength of your soul?”

He sounded so teasing, so cocky, so aware of the obvious reason why it had happened, it actually thrilled Aziraphale. Was he receptive, then? Was he open to Aziraphale’s feelings? He would be mocking him if he wasn’t, not trying to keep him in the tub.

“I-If you must know,” Aziraphale fretted, still nervous despite his burst of courage, “I was… Thinking about you.”

“Okay, I knew that much. Takes more than just _thinking_ about someone, you’ve got to want them there with all your heart.” Crowley’s long fingers crept up to hold Aziraphale’s chin, their faces so close there were very nearly floppy wet strands of Crowley’s hair in Aziraphale’s face.

“I-I was… I was thinking about our lunch dates! About how I love watching you walk down the street. H-How I love catching you off guard when I can see those expressions no one else gets to see, when you’re thoughtful, or being sweet-”

“I’m not swe-”

“Yes, yes, I know, big scary demon. I’m terrified. But… That’s what I was thinking about. And how I…” Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. Did he dare confess the rest? Crowley’s thumb rested on his chin, his fingers on Aziraphale’s jaw. He’d heard this much. He’d probably figured out by now between the summoning and Aziraphale’s confession that there were… Certain feelings involved. “...How I want to pull you in like… Like this.”

Aziraphale mimed Crowley, his hand lightly on his demon’s chin, eyes glancing downward to sweep over his lips, so pink, so alluring. He noticed that Crowley’s breath had suddenly gotten rougher, heavier.

“And then?” He urged, cheeks flushing. Was it the temperature of the water or something else?

“And then… I do this.” Aziraphale whispered, excited, terrified, elated as he pulled Crowley’s face to his, pressing their lips together softly to taste, to touch, to feel Crowley’s shocked gasp against his lips, his hand lowering from Aziraphale’s chin to his shoulder, the water sloshing around them as he moved in closer.

They pulled away, foreheads together, faces flushed. 

“Yeah, that was probably enough to summon me.” Crowley nodded. They both went quiet then laughed suddenly, all the pieces falling into place as their arms wound around each other. 

“How long…?” Crowley asked, surprised but pleasantly so as Aziraphale started pressing soft kisses along his jawline.

“Since the beginning. You?” Aziraphale looked up, into Crowley’s yellow eyes, recalling the first time he’d looked into them.

“Since the beginning.” Crowley nodded in agreement. “We’re complete fucking idiots.”

“So stupid.” Aziraphale agreed, hugging his beloved close. 

It was going to take all of his willpower to not abuse this new knowledge and summon Crowley whenever he wanted to wrap his arms around him. He hoped it would take a similar amount of willpower for Crowley to do the same.


	2. Rub a Dub Dub, an Angel in a Hot Tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that his and Aziraphale's relationship is finally taking a romantic turn, Crowley wants to show Aziraphale he can be romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to get another chapter out of this, but this idea is too fun!

So apparently their relationship was different now, and Crowley wasn’t sure what to do about it. He was happy about this change, he’d wanted it to go in this new direction for a few thousand years at this point, but now that it was different and heading where he wanted it to… He had no idea what to do about it. This wasn’t in his nature, this romantic stuff. Demons don’t do romance. Demons tempt, demons scare, and in his case demons sometimes forget an entire afternoon’s worth of tasks because it’s so warm out he just can’t help but bask on a rock in the park. He at least knew that that was not romantic.

So now here he was, trying to be romantic. Hot tubs were romantic, weren’t they? They were in movies a lot and everyone in the movies seemed to think they were romantic. So Crowley had miracled up a deck for his flat, the only deck in the neighborhood so it stood out only a little, and miracled a hot tub for good measure.

Tonight was nearish to a full moon so there would be lots of light for them to see each other. Did this need candles? Aziraphale had candles in the bathroom during his bath. He seemed to like them enough, but Crowley didn’t want to just copy what Aziraphale had done for his bath. He was fairly certain you weren’t supposed to put a bath bomb in a hot tub, but now that he’d had the idea, he was burning to try it. 

“Oohh, wait.” He knew what was romantic as hell. Roses. Petals everywhere! Crowley hurried downstairs and slunk down the street to the house of a neighbor who had some award-winning rose bushes facing the street, which he knew because she told literally every person who walked by the house that her rose bushes were award-winning, including Crowley, who had an award-winning ‘I Don’t Care’ expression, and yet she persisted in telling him every time he walked by her house, even when he’d tried taking his sunglasses off. Nothing could dissuade her from talking about her roses, not even his unholy eyes.

So naturally he grabbed every rose he could find off her bushes. Maybe stealing some prize winning roses would gloss over the miracled deck and hot tub when Beezlebub started texting him for an explanation.

Crowley returned to his new deck and started pulling the roses apart until the petals were no longer secured, and then just threw them everywhere, littering the hot tub and the deck itself with petals. Super romantic.

He decided to risk one more miracle and strung up some lights around the overhang of his new deck. Very instagrammable. He might even take a picture of it.

Crowley looked around in some mild anguish. Was this good? Was this even accurate? He’d spent so long pining over his angel he’d never worked out what he’d do were he ever given the chance to woo him.

“Hellfire.” Crowley muttered, sighing to himself. Hopefully it would be good. Now he had to get Aziraphale here. He whipped out his phone to text his angel, wondering if it was better to be straightforward or try to be a little vague. 

He’d start with vague. He sent a text hinting that he might possibly want to see Aziraphale sometime immediately soon this very evening or whenever he was free to come over tonight.

To Crowley’s distress, he received a response that Aziraphale was just getting to the good part of a book he’d forgotten he even had, it had been so deeply buried under towers of books piled ceiling-high on the floor.

The book could wait! It had been there in the shop all that time, sitting sadly in a dark dusty corner under literally hundreds of other books, surely it could put up with one evening laying bookmarked on Aziraphale’s desk!

Crowley tried again, this time being a little more direct, insisting to his angel that he needed to show him something.

Crowley could almost hear the pout in Aziraphale’s voice in the text response, certain it could wait until the following day, this really was such an interesting part of his book and he would be happy to lend it to Crowley when he was finished.

He took a deep breath, once again observing his masterpiece of seduction, the hot tub with (prize-winning) petals everywhere, and wondered how sad and soggy those petals would be by the following evening, and how dried and brittle the ones littering the deck would be.

No, there was no choice, it simply had to be tonight. Crowley had tried being subtle and he’d tried being direct, but now it was time to be straightforward.

Didn’t get more straightforward than summoning the love of your life directly into a hot tub.

Crowley undressed to his underwear, not wishing to relive his experience of taking a fully-clothed plunge into Aziraphale’s soapy tub but in a hot tub, though he knew full well he was about to bless Aziraphale with the experience. Oh, his angel would be cross, he knew. But this whole set-up was so damn romantic, he was sure he’d be forgiven! There was _moonlight!_ Crowley had almost seduced himself!  
He stepped into the hot tub and got settled in the water, sighing in bliss at how warm it was. He threw his arms around the back, pleased to find a jet of water massaging his spine. Sometimes he got rid of the things he’d miracled into being, but this was one thing he might keep. He felt so relaxed, cradled by the water, the jets gently beating away the tension in his body. 

Crowley got comfier and settled in to start focusing on the task at hand. His angel. His angel, who couldn’t even put a book down to come over when Crowley asked-

“None of that, my boy. Can’t summon if you’re worked up.” He told himself. Crowley took a few deep breaths, willing himself calmer. It really had been a shame Aziraphale had summoned him on accident into the bath, it wasn’t like Crowley wasn’t willing to take a bath with him. The idea seemed quite nice. The hot tub was close, it was a container full of hot liquid, same as the tub, but Aziraphale’s tub was… Smaller. More intimate. Crowley would have to scrunch up to get his long legs inside it, sit close to Aziraphale, right up against his warm, plush body.

It really was so hard for him to stay mad at Aziraphale. No matter what the angel had done, chosen a book over him or blessed Crowley’s fork at lunch so he couldn’t use it and had to try to eat pasta with a spoon, sooner or later Crowley would envision Aziraphale’s sweet smile, his unruly, fluffy curls that shone like a halo around his head in the daytime, showing everyone around that they were in the presence of an actual angel, and he would forget why he was even mad. 

Crowley sank down a little in the warm water. He’d always had urges to express his affection to Aziraphale, and now… Now he could. Now he could take Aziraphale’s hand instead of just standing at his side and hold it, weaving their fingers together. He could rub his pinky finger along Aziraphale’s and feel his ever-present ring, as familiar to Crowley as the angel’s eyes and smile. He could reach over at lunch and wipe Aziraphale’s face clean, then let his hand linger to hold his angel’s face. Would Aziraphale lean into Crowley’s palm? Would he be the first to reach over and hold Crowley’s face? Or the first to hold Crowley’s hand?

His heart was already pounding in excitement at the thought of taking Aziraphale’s hand, but the idea of Aziraphale taking his hand first had him feeling rather giddy, curling in on himself a little as his thoughts wandered other places, imagining Aziraphale lovingly kissing the back of Crowley’s hand after seizing it in his own, letting the phantom of that sweet kiss tease and burn on Crowley’s skin.

He really wanted to see Aziraphale.

“-HEAVENS!”

It was all the warning Crowley got before his vision was nothing but beige, and Aziraphale popped into the air out of nothing, then dropped into the tub with an absolutely magnificent splash. Crowley suddenly recalled his own splash had put out a good number of Aziraphale’s candles. So all the better he hadn’t put them out. He’d done plenty of miracles today and didn’t feel like getting yelled at by Beezlebub for lighting candles. 

Aziraphale stood up in the tub, sopping wet, his thick vest soaked through, looking rather thoroughly put out.

“ANTHONY J. CROWLEY, I WAS READING!” He shouted across the rooftops, seemingly uncaring that Crowley’s neighbors were trying to sleep.

“I did try to ask you to come over.” Crowley said, rather nonchalantly, leaning against the back of the tub and looking up at Aziraphale. His pants clung to his thighs, displaying a certain meatiness that had Crowley’s thoughts imagining other things besides hand kisses.

“...What, then.” Aziraphale sighed deeply, wearily, with the exhaustion of a man who has witnessed the best and worst of humanity and yet has never before been so thoroughly exasperated with them as he was with the demon in front of him.

“This!” Crowley motioned to the hot tub. Aziraphale looked around him. The water was still recovering from Aziraphale dropping in. The deck was soaked. There were petals everywhere.

Petals?

“The hot tub?” Aziraphale asked, quite confused. As long as he was here and his clothes were wet, he figured he might as well enjoy it and Crowley’s company, even if right now he was torn between sitting down in the tub and going in Crowley’s flat and blessing the door behind him.

“And the petals! Oh, and the moon. Can’t forget the moon.” Crowley pointed it out like it had been his idea that the moon was hanging exactly where it was at that moment.

Aziraphale gave him a confused look as he removed his vest and flung it onto the equally soaking wet deck floor.

“Oh come on! Hot tub! Petals! The moon!” Crowley repeated himself, hoping it would help Aziraphale figure out what was happening.

“I’m romancing you!” Crowley was irritated he had to spell it out like this. Clearly he’d gone wrong somewhere, but where?

Aziraphale looked utterly shocked for a moment, then confused, like he was desperately trying to think of the exact words he wanted. Then he took a face journey through the remaining stages of grief until he arrived at Acceptance and smiled, laughing at his ridiculous demon.

“You are the silliest demon I’ve ever met.” Another thing demons weren’t was silly. But Crowley was. Maybe he wasn’t romantic but at least he could make Aziraphale laugh. Whether it was on purpose or accident didn’t matter, as long as his angel was happy and laughing.

Aziraphale finished undressing and abandoned his clothes on the deck, deciding to worry about them later. For now, he joined Crowley in his corner of the hot tub and took his hand under the water, Crowley’s heart threatening to burst as Aziraphale lightly kissed the back of his hand.


End file.
